


The Daily Grind

by 221BJen (jcoz1701)



Series: Twelve In Twelve 2016 [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coffee Shops, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 13:39:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6426094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jcoz1701/pseuds/221BJen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Undercover for a case....</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Daily Grind

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Callie4180, EnduringChill and gowerstreet for their support and beta work! Go read their stuff now!

John sat at the table in the corner, his back to the wall, so that he had a clear view of the door and the front counter. Sherlock had instructed him to go first and, how did it go, ‘try not to give the entire thing away, John. We’re trying to catch a killer.’ As if he’d forgotten that part. 

He sipped his coffee and waited. He’d been grateful for the case, even though there was still something so thrilling and new about what had happened between him and Sherlock. A week ago today John had taken a leap of faith and it had gone better than he would have ever dreamed. After a bit of awkwardness and insecurity, they had things well figured out now. 

John smiled into his coffee cup, remembering Sherlock how leapt from their bed,  _ their bed _ , this morning at Lestrade’s text, unabashedly naked and fantastically beautiful. John had stopped him before he strode out into the flat, forcing his dressing gown on him. Mrs. Hudson had got much, much better at knocking, but there had been one incident…

John shook his head. He was supposed to be watching. Sherlock had shooed him out of the flat, assuring him that he would be along within the next half hour. In disguise. A disguise that he wouldn’t allow John to see because he didn’t think that it would have the same effect. John rolled his eyes. Sherlock just wanted to show off, the vain git. 

They had both been wanting to get back to work for different reasons. John knew that Sherlock was a bit anxious about how everything would work now that they were  _ this _ . This thing that they hadn’t quite put a name to yet but knew by unspoken agreement that was forever. Sherlock needed to prove to himself that it wouldn’t affect The Work, even though John knew it wouldn’t. The idea of one working without the other was unthinkable but John had to let Sherlock see it for himself. 

He was letting his mind wander again. John sat up straight, trying to look like someone that was just passing the time while not looking like someone that was trying to bust a smuggling ring. When Sherlock had explained the case to him, it had seemed unbelievable and made but also a little brilliant. No one would ever suspect a coffee shop of smuggling uncut gems. But apparently that’s exactly what was happening.

His phone buzzed on the tabletop.

**5 minutes. Be ready. SH**

Be ready for what? John slouched down a bit in his chair, fiddling with his phone. He put it down on the table and took another sip of his coffee. He sat the mug down just in time because Sherlock walked in and the sight of him would have caused John to inelegantly choke on his drink. He had to look twice to make sure it was actually him.

Sherlock was wearing jeans. Not just regular jeans, oh no, jeans that hugged his arse and made his legs look a mile long until they ended in heavy black boots. A simple light grey t-shirt clung to his chest, the vee neck showing off his throat to best advantage. And instead of the swirling Belstaff, he was wearing a black leather jacket that came just to his hips, leaving his denim-clad arse in full ogling view. 

Everything was different. His curls had even been tamed somehow so that they flowed back from his forehead, causing his angular features to become impossibly more alien and striking at the same time. He didn’t even glance at John as he walked up to the counter.

John realized his mouth was hanging open and closed it with a click. He tried not to stare but it was almost an impossible task. Sherlock even walked differently, his arrogant stride evolving to a confident swagger that matched the persona that he had slipped on like a glove. Fucking hell, it was hot. He picked up his phone and pretended to check his email while keeping an eye on what was going on up front. 

He blinked. And then blinked again. What the hell? He had glanced at the barista, had vaguely noticed that he was attractive, but his mind had been full of Sherlock and what they were doing. And now the obviously stupidly attractive barista was  _ flirting _ with Sherlock. And Sherlock in his obscenely snug jeans and cool leather jacket and carefully styled hair was leaning in and  _ smiling  _ at the bastard. John forgot his role for a moment and stared.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. He’d seen Sherlock flirt before for a case, plaster on a too-fake smile and turn up the charm. He was good at it. Too good at it. But John hadn’t seen him do it since they had become  _ this _ , this thing that they were now. This thing that allowed him to wake up in the morning with Sherlock drooling adorably into his pillow with his long limbs sprawled across the bed. That was his and only his and he wasn’t sure, in this moment, if he could watch this performance. He felt a hot wave of jealousy and possessiveness break over him that he wasn’t aware that he was capable of.

He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his phone. He had to get it together or he wouldn’t be able to do this kind of case with Sherlock again. And he didn’t think he could stand being left out, not knowing if Sherlock was walking into something dangerous. Alone. 

He glanced up and the barista had obviously gone to get something. Sherlock was leaning against the counter, looking at his own mobile, completely at ease. John started as his mobile buzzed in his hand. 

**Do you like what you see? SH**

**I haven’t worn these since uni. Thought you might like them. SH**

John blinked at the screen.  _ Oh my god, Sherlock Holmes is sexting me. Sort of.  _ He didn’t get a chance to respond because the fucking flirty barista chose that moment to come back to the counter. He watched Sherlock smile at the prat before accepting a coffee and a small paper bag that he slipped into his jacket pocket. He nodded to the barista and then swaggered out the door. John’s phone buzzed again.

**Wait 5 minutes, then head home. I’ll be waiting. SH**

John fought to keep the stupid grin off his face. If this was Sherlock in a relationship, John was going to make damn sure that they were both clear that they were indeed in this for the long run. Because he never wanted anyone like this or had anyone return the favor. It was a heady feeling. He fidgeted in his seat until the requisite five minutes were up and made himself walk normally to the door instead of bolting from his seat and running down the pavement toward home. 

And if he did walk a little faster than usual as soon as he was out of sight of the coffee shop, well, he  _ was _ in a hurry.

  
  



End file.
